


The Train That Runs Through This Town

by oorrrt



Series: Predestine [1]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Ghibli Inspired, M/M, Magical Realism, a lil old timey, keonhee falls for his voice, seoho is a radio host
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oorrrt/pseuds/oorrrt
Summary: Keonhee falls in love with Seoho's voice on an old radio, tinny and broken, somehow reaching out to him through a sea of time and static.





	The Train That Runs Through This Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some images if u want: [central town](https://res.cloudinary.com/djcyhbk2e/image/upload/c_fit,f_auto,h_800,q_35,w_800/v1/gvv/prod/l2asocex10lfp3ikscxh) | [other side of town](https://i.imgur.com/tokuxBT.jpg) | [path to keonhee's house](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/45/0b/24/450b24aad923e2d1e594cbbcc3408cf1.jpg) | [radio](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ba/e8/cd/bae8cdc48d669f45f068578e3a9e2cfb.jpg)
> 
> this story means a lot to me. i hope u enjoy

Bright winter sunlight glints off the gravel beneath Keonhee’s feet. As he leans against the brick wall outside the school gates, he drags his shoe in tiny circles, never having noticed how pretty the shiny pebbles could be.

Of course, it’s probably just his mood. Even his backpack feels lighter, despite being stuffed with more junk than usual, knowing that he’ll probably never need those damned books in there ever again.

“Keonhee!”

He turns to see Hwanwoong and Dongju running out the front doors. Well, Hwanwoong’s running, Dongju keeping a surprisingly similar pace just walking with his longer legs.

Hwanwoong reaches Keonhee and shoves him off the wall. “Keonhee! We did it! No more school ever again!”

Keonhee frowns. “Woong, no one’s ever _this _excited to graduate.”

“I feel left out,” Dongju says, reaching them.

Hwanwoong ignores him. “Excuse me,” he says to Keonhee, “you’re the most excitable person I know.” He belts out a laugh. “I’m just in a good mood!”

“I feel left out,” Dongju repeats.

“It’s okay, little man,” Hwanwoong says and grabs his hand. “We’re all going to Harin’s party later. After that you can have your crisis about how your best friends are going to leave you.”

Dongju huffs and pulls his hand out of Hwanwoong’s grasp. “I’ll just get new ones. Anyways, I’m hungry.”

“Curry puffs? We could go to that bakery downtown.” Hwanwoong suggests.

“Isn’t there that one dude that works there that always hits on you?” Keonhee finally speaks up.

“Woongie-hyung likes the attention.” Dongju rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s go.” He begins to walk away without them.

Hwanwoong watches Dongju’s retreating back for a moment before turning back to Keonhee, eyes suddenly sharper. “Are you okay? You seem a little out of it.”

Keonhee ruffles his hair the way he hates it. “I’m great, just thinking about, you know. We’ve spent so much time here, and now we’re done forever.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Keonhee shakes his head. “I told you, I feel fine. Besides, if you wait any longer Dongju’s gonna go without you.”

Hwanwoong clucks his tongue at Dongju, slowly disappearing out of sight. “Alright. You coming?”

“Nah.” Keonhee taps his backpack straps. “I want to drop some of this junk off at home, then maybe go up to that hill behind my house.”

Hwanwoong gives him another scrutinizing look. “If you’re sure. I’ll see you at Harin’s later then.” He pats Keonhee’s arm and takes off after Dongju.

Keonhee turns in the opposite direction and heads home. Yes, he feels a bit strange, but he’s also happy? He takes his time walking, stops to admire a few gardens along the way.

To get to his house he needs to cross the train tracks. He breathes a sigh of relief as he approaches; no trains are passing by. Quickening his step he trots over the wooden planks. It’s always a hassle when he gets stuck on one side as a train begins to run and he has to wait a few minutes to get across.

Despite the periodic annoyance, he is fond of the trains. Maybe not as much as Hwanwoong, who grew up in the station because his father works there, but he likes it well enough. The train station is why the town exists at all – a long time ago, the trains couldn’t run very long without stopping, necessitating a station between the two nearest cities. Once the station was up and operating, people slowly flocked to it, escaping the bigger cities, and the small town began to form.

Keonhee doesn’t like the train for its historical significance, though. He just thinks trains are cool.

And to the trains’ credit, he probably won’t be stopped on either side of the tracks much anymore; since the war ended, the never-ending cars of soldiers or supplies or whatnot haven’t really been a thing. Just back to the old passenger trains.

Keonhee’s breathing a little roughly by the time he walks up all the steps to his house. It’s on the bigger side of houses in their town; it sits on the side of the tallest hill in the area where few others managed to build. When he was younger, he, Hwanwoong, and Dongju liked to stop by, grab snacks, and climb the rest of the hill to have picnics at the overlook. For the past few years, though, they’ve all been busier and don’t make it up as often.

Keonhee still likes to go alone. It’s a good reprieve from being around people and a good spot to think.

He walks up to his front door and kicks it open. It jams almost immediately. Peering inside, he can see a large cardboard box wedged between the back of the door and the wall.

“Hello?” he calls out.

“Keonhee?” The muffled voice of his father answers.

“Dad, I can’t get in!”

“Oh no.” Keonhee hears uneven footsteps before his dad’s face peers back out at him. “Just a moment,” he says, closes the door, shuffles some stuff around, then opens it just enough for Keonhee to be able to slip in.

“Sorry about that,” his dad says, rubbing the back of his neck. His sweater is coated in a fine layer of dust.

Keonhee looks around their living room. It’s littered with boxes like the one that had been blocking the door. The couches and tables are nearly covered by what Keonhee can only describe as junk, and the floor is practically invisible.

“What’s all this?” he asks his dad, toeing open the nearest box. It puffs out a cloud of dust. Coughing, he peers inside to see it stuffed to the brim with a thick red fabric.

“I’m cleaning out the attic,” his dad says, already at the other side of the room back to whatever he was digging through when Keonhee arrived.

“Do you need help?” Keonhee asks, mentally crossing his fingers that the answer is no.

“Not now.” Keonhee internally cheers. His dad stands up and dusts his hands off on his pants, which does nothing but get more dust on both. “I’ll probably need a hand later to bring some of this to the donation center.” He looks around, eyebrows furrowed. Keonhee wonders whether even half of this stuff will be accepted as donations.

“Alright, I’ll stop by home before I meet up with Woongie and Dongju tonight.”

His dad gasps dramatically. “Oh my goodness, I forgot! Today is your official last day, right?” He walks over to Keonhee and tries to give him a hug, which Keonhee gingerly rejects.

“Dad, the dust.”

“Right. Sorry.” His dad grins. “You don’t need to bother coming back to help out, I’ll just ask your siblings. You have a good time, and I’ll take you out to dinner sometime this week?”

Keonhee grins. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He heads upstairs to his room. Throwing his backpack to the side, he notices a small note on his bed.

_Congratulations on finishing your last day of school! I’m working late tonight, but I’ve stocked the kitchen with your favorite snacks. I’m so proud of you, baby, I love you! -mom_

Keonhee smiles and tucks the note into his desk drawer. He’s not embarrassed to admit that he loves getting little notes from his mom like this; since she works most nights and he was a student, he never got to spend much time with her. Little reminders of her in his life make him feel good. If a little sappy.

He quickly changes out of his uniform into warmer clothes, tugs on his softest scarf, and grabs a different bag. His dad is still rummaging in the same spot when he gets back downstairs. Keonhee stuffs a packet of roasted chestnuts in his pocket before stepping back into the mess.

As he scans the room, a little device on the coffee table catches his eye. He wades carefully through everything to go pick it up. It’s surprisingly heavy for something barely bigger than his palm.

“Dad, what’s this?”

His dad glances over. “Oh, that’s my radio from when I was around your age. It was a toy back then; doubt it’ll work now.”

Keonhee examines the radio. It’s dusty, like everything else in the room, but its bright teal color isn’t dulled by the grime. He likes the weight of it in his hands.

“Can I have it?”

“Why do you want that old thing?”

Keonhee shrugs. “I don’t know. I like the color.”

“Alright, go ahead. Don’t expect it to do much, though.” His dad chuckles.

“Thanks, dad.” Keonhee puts it carefully in his otherwise empty bag, now weighted with purpose. “See you later, and good luck getting all this cleaned before mom gets home!”

His dad lets out a long sigh in response, and Keonhee gives him a thumbs up as he heads out the door.

A breath of chill wind brushes against his face as he steps outside, and he tugs his scarf tighter around his neck. It’s not the best weather for picnicking outside, but he’s in the mood for it, and he won’t let something like winter get in his way.

In just a few minutes he’s at the top of the hill. His favorite overlook hasn’t changed since he was a child – from its vantage point, he can practically see the entire town. It’s mostly a jumble of mismatched houses and small businesses, roofs all different colors, looking like a wrongly-fitted puzzle cut through the middle by the stark lines of the train tracks. When they were younger, Dongju liked to draw the view, buildings looking different every time but train tracks always following the same curves. Keonhee and Hwanwoong would just count the trains as they went by.

Keonhee finds a nice patch of grass right by the edge and sits down, placing his bag on a nearby rock. He stuffs a handful of chestnuts into his mouth, closing his eyes to savor their honey-sweetness before pulling out his dad’s radio and shuffling into a more comfortable position.

Settled, he takes a closer look at the radio. It’s a beautiful teal color with gold accents that still shine despite all the chips and scratches. He turns its two knobs gently, one for volume, the other marked with half-faded numbers. Running his fingers along the back, he finds a small switch and flicks it on.

Static jumbles loudly out of the little device. Keonhee startles violently, laughs ruefully at his own cowardice. He’s glad his friends aren’t here to make fun of him.

Putting the volume at a more reasonable level, he begins to toy with the other dial, twisting slowly and evenly. All that changes as he fiddles with it is the tone of the static – going from higher pitched, to rougher, to back again. He’s not surprised at the lack of anything else; it’s a toy-quality thing that had been collecting dust in an attic for years, and his dad had even warned him not to get his hopes up – but he still finds himself a bit disappointed.

He leaves the radio running at its lowest frequency, sets it down by his side and stretches out. Lightly frozen blades of grass tickle his ears. He shivers. The sky is a clear, light blue, broken only by the clouds of Keonhee’s breath, and he wonders if it’ll snow before the year is over.

Even with the cold, Keonhee’s breaths slow down and he half begins to doze off amidst his quiet surroundings.

When he hears a voice.

_Hello, listeners!_

Keonhee shoots up, his sleepiness shattered. That was a voice. From the radio. Quiet, and broken up by static, but definitely a voice. He looks wildly around at his surroundings, trying to see if someone’s pranking him, but it’s still silent apart from the small device by his legs.

The voice continues to talk, but Keonhee can’t make anything out anymore. He grabs the radio and desperately turns the dial, trying to find a way to clear up the sound.

_–and it’s starting to warm up! Today I saw the first flowers on the tree outside my–_

Static again. But wait, that couldn’t be right. It’s mid-December, and Keonhee thought radios couldn’t get broadcasts from far enough away that the weather would be that different. He gets back to working the knob until he finds the golden position that brings the voice back into focus; tinny, but clear.

_–but I’m sure no one wants me to list every flower in the garden across from my house, so we’ll get right into the music! Since spring is right around the corner, I thought I’d pick out some songs that remind me of the season!_

The radio seems to have settled, not bursting into static every few seconds anymore, so Keonhee lies back down and sets it in the grass by his face.

_Ah, I almost forgot to mention, as spring approaches, so does the start of school! I hope all you students out there are ready, these songs are dedicated to you. I know how difficult it can be, since I only graduated a few months ago myself._

Oh, so he’s the same age as Keonhee, whoever it is. Something about that feels comforting; it’s as if the person on the radio is someone Keonhee knows, someone he could have been classmates with.

A song Keonhee doesn’t recognize begins to play. He closes his eyes. The music is soft, but hopeful, and he thinks the dude on the radio nailed the early spring vibe. Keonhee taps his fingers along to the beat.

He has a fleeting thought that he’d like to hear the guy talk again. Something about his voice is pleasant, although Keonhee can’t pick out any specific reason why.

The song ends. Another begins to play. And then another.

_And that’s all for today on Sunset Sounds! Goodnight from your host, Lee Seoho, and I hope you can tune in again tomorrow!_

Keonhee blinks. It’s getting pretty dark out, courtesy of winter’s early sunsets. Still, that means he’s been outside for at least two hours. His toes have lost feeling long ago. He needs to get ready to go to Harin’s.

He sits up and picks up the radio. It’s still faintly emitting noise, not static, so he rolls the volume dial to its maximum.

_Love, love the stars… love, love the m–_

With a click, the broadcast is over. Keonhee quickly turns down the volume again, just in time for the earsplitting static to kick back in.

Those few lines of song at the end, they didn’t sound like something already recorded. And though the sound quality of the radio isn’t great, Keonhee swears the voice that sang is the same voice as the guy broadcasting. Lee Seoho.

Only two lines, but it’s the prettiest singing Keonhee’s ever heard in his life.

He glares at the radio, as if he can force it to tune back into Seoho’s singing. The static blares out like a mockery.

Keonhee flips off the switch. He moves to put the thing back into his bag before thinking to grab a pen and mark the dial where Seoho’s voice rang clear.

Harin, bless his heart, has thrown an absolute rager.

His parents are on some trip, he says when Keonhee shows up to the door of his manor at the other end of town. For a rich kid with questionable guidance, Harin’s a surprisingly nice guy. It might be because he’s a little stupid. But Keonhee won’t ever say that out loud, especially as Harin takes him downstairs and straight to the bar, stocked with the best alcohol a high-schooler can get his hands on.

He accepts a glass of some mixed drink made by a junior with curly hair and bartending dreams. It seems like the entire school showed up to fill Harin’s basement – Keonhee’s pretty sure he also spots some complete strangers.

So it’s a bit miraculous when, as soon as he has his drink in hand, Hwanwoong slides up to him, Dongju in tow.

“Keonhee!” he shrieks over the music. “I’m so glad you made it!”

Dongju says something unintelligible.

_“What?”_ Keonhee yells.

“I said how was your afternoon!”

“It was good, I got a radio–” someone starts shouting along to the music, prompting everyone nearby to join in. “I’ll tell you later!” Keonhee screams into Dongju’s ear.

“Hurry up and down that cup and get another drink! So we can go dance!” Hwanwoong says.

Keonhee chugs the alcohol, wincing slightly at the burn. It’s surprisingly good; whether that’s because it’s decent alcohol or because that junior was better at mixing drinks than Keonhee gave him credit for, he isn’t sure.

As he hands his glass back for a refill, Hwanwoong pours out three shots. Keonhee raises his eyebrows at him. The younger just shrugs and hands him one of the glasses, and once the three of them have taken the shots, he pours another round.

So Keonhee’s already three drinks in, clutching another in his hand as he makes his way to the dance floor. He doesn’t tell anyone he’s never actually had more than two. As he finishes that fourth cup, he’s already feeling dizzy.

Once the sweating is getting to be too much, he slips away and gets a glass of water. He finds a relatively quiet spot in a corner with a great view of the dance floor and settles, watching Hwanwoong dance.

“He’s such a good dancer,” Dongju slurs. He totters a bit, coming to stand by Keonhee and just falling against him instead.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He does, like, this–” Dongju messily shakes his hips, “–and it looks good.”

“Yeah, he looks good.”

“He looks sexy! Wait, no.” Dongju narrows his eyes and leans forward to peer at the dancer. Keonhee grabs him by the waist to stop him from falling forward.

Dongju throws his arm out to point at someone. “Who’s that grinding on him!”

Keonhee can’t even see Hwanwoong anymore. “I don’t know, dude, why don’t you, mmm, go push them away and grind on Hwanwoong instead?”

Dongju turns to stare at him for a full five seconds. He hands his half empty cup to Keonhee. “Yeah, that sounds like a really good idea. Bye.”

Keonhee finishes Dongju’s drink and leans against a table to watch him shove through the crowd. Dongju starts to yell at someone he doesn’t recognize, but before Keonhee can see what happens next, the throng of people cover his line of sight.

Dongju’s probably fine. Keonhee’s really getting too warm.

He finds the door to the backyard and stumbles out into the crisp night breeze. It’s like relief physically washes over him; the cold and the sudden quiet. Keonhee finds a bench no one’s making out on and sits down, blowing clouds of warm air out into the dark.

Humming a soft tune, he sits back and closes his eyes. The world somehow still seems to spin behind his eyelids.

“That’s a good song,” a voice says, right by his ear.

He jumps.

Hyungu laughs, making himself comfortable next to Keonhee on the bench. “Criminally underrated,” he says.

Keonhee tries to remember what he was humming. Oh. It was the last bit from the radio today. Today? It feels like ages ago. He doesn’t even know the song, he’s just been repeating those two lines. _Love the stars. Love the m–._

“What song is it?” he asks, suddenly alert. “I just heard a little in passing.”

_“Half Moon _by Dean,” Hyungu says. “He released it like, three years ago?”

Keonhee tries to remember what he was doing three years ago. “When we declared war?”

“Came out right before that.” Hyungu looks thoughtful. But Hyungu always looks thoughtful. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t get as popular as it could’ve. Because war.”

Keonhee doesn’t know enough about popular music or war to dispute, so he just nods.

“Hey, if you want to listen to it, I have the album on tape. You could come over tomorrow,” Hyungu offers.

***

The song is good. But Keonhee can’t help but wish he could hear the voice on the radio sing it all the way through.

“What do you think?” Hyungu asks, setting down the cassette player.

“I like it. Thanks for showing me.”

“Of course. But you’re looking a little pensive.”

Keonhee waves it off. “I just have a bit of a headache from last night.”

Hyungu gives him a sympathetic smile. “I can make you tea?”

“No, it’s okay. It’s fading now, I think.”

“If you’re sure,” Hyungu says. “By the way, where did you hear the song? You didn’t specify last night.”

Keonhee hesitates. For no real reason, he wants to keep the radio a secret now, a little thing just his own. “I heard it playing in a store as I was walking past,” he lies. “I couldn’t stay, but that one part got stuck in my head.”

Hyungu accepts the lie. They listen a few more times upon Keonhee’s request before he realizes he should go home; he wants to see if the radio picks up the broadcast again. The chances are highest in the same place at the same time, he reasons, so he thanks Hyungu again and bids goodbye.

It’s overcast today. Something about that’s nice, though; the cloudy sky casting a blue tint across the buildings in the center of town. The colorful roofs are more muted than usual, but still stand out in the barrenness of winter.

Keonhee miscalculated, and he has some extra time before he needs to be back on the hill, so he stops by to see Hwanwoong at work on his way back.

The train station sits right in the center of town, midway between Hyungu’s house and his own. It’s the biggest building in their town by far; tall and covered with high windows. Keonhee steps inside with a shiver. It’s not too busy, only a handful of people walking through to grab early tickets or timetables.

He makes his way over to the ticket booth. Hwanwoong looks half-asleep behind the counter, but perks up when he notices Keonhee walking over.

“Son Dongju’s being weird,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

Keonhee leans against the countertop. “He’s just a weird kid.”

“I called his house earlier today, and he picked up, and then hung up as soon as he heard it was me.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t Dongmyeong?”

Hwanwoong scoffs. “I can tell their voices apart. Besides, why would _Dongmyeong_ hang up on me?”

“I dunno, maybe he secretly hates you. Anyways, Dongju probably just has a raging hangover and doesn’t want to admit it to us.”

“But he tells me everything!”

“Why are you so hung up about it?

“I don’t know! He nearly punched someone I was dancing with last night. What if something’s wrong?”

“I wouldn’t worry about him. He’ll be knocking at your door by tomorrow; he’s obsessed with you.”

Hwanwoong suddenly sits up straight, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Keonhee shrugs. “You know. He’s attached to your hip, always brings you up in conversation if you’re not there.”

“That’s not good.”

Keonhee makes a weird face at the younger. “Maybe he’s just into you.”

Hwanwoong shakes his head so violently Keonhee’s worried he’s going to give himself brain damage. “No. No, he can’t be,” he says, slamming his palms onto his desk.

“Woong. Dude. Is something wrong?”

Hwanwoong glances down at a stack of tickets, looking forlorn. “I…I think I’m going to ask Youngjo-hyung out.”

Keonhee raises his eyebrows. “Who’s Youngjo-hyung?”

“The guy who works at the bakery.”

“The one who’s always hitting on you?”

Hwanwoong nods. “At least that means I know he’s into me,” he jokes, but his tone is flat. Keonhee finds it a bit concerning.

“But…are _you_ into him?”

“I think I could be,” Hwanwoong mumbles.

Keonhee frowns. “If you’re not sure, you should wait, right?”

Hwanwoong twists his mouth around nervously. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll think about it while I’m on my trip.”

“That’s a good idea,” Keonhee says. “When do you leave?”

“Three days. I’ll be gone for a little over a month.”

“That’s a long time.”

Hwanwoong sighs. “Yeah. I don’t really want to be gone for that long, but I promised my dad and he’s really excited.” A group of people walk up to the booth, and Hwanwoong looks at Keonhee apologetically. “I should get back to work,” he says.

“No worries, I need to be on my way.” Keonhee leaves the station feeling a little peculiar. He ignores it.

It’s _cold_ on the hill. Keonhee regrets not wearing another layer and maybe a pair of gloves, his hands dry and red clutching nothing but the radio. He considers just going back home.

No. He has to wait.

At least it’s a win-win situation, he tries to convince himself – either the broadcast doesn’t come through, and he goes back home to dinner and warmth, or it does, and he gets to hear him again.

Lee Seoho. It’s a pretty name.

Keonhee braces himself as he flicks on the radio.

Static. He tells himself not to get discouraged; there was static yesterday too. It’s probably just not time yet. Or maybe he needs to tune it again. Or he can just go home.

He holds the radio in both hands, looking down on the town, picking out the train station. Hyungu’s house. Hwanwoong’s. Dongju’s.

_Truly nothing beats the scent of spring, right?_

Keonhee’s heartbeat spikes.

_Hello, listeners! _Seoho’s voice ripples through the air like a spell. _On my walk home today, I saw a bush covered in butterflies!_

Keonhee leans forward, trying to hold on to every word. _Think about it though, if just one butterfly’s wingbeats can cause a tornado across the world, I wonder what a whole bush full of them could do? I give you my sincerest apologies, people on the other side of earth. Brace yourself for a storm!_

Keonhee chuckles.

_Just kidding. I doubt anyone across the world could hear me right now. Or anyone outside our town, even. That’s okay! I have you, listeners. And those butterflies! I loved those butterflies so much, so I’m scrapping the list of songs I had prepared for today, and we’re playing butterfly-related music instead! I hope I brought enough!_

The first song begins to play. Keonhee takes some deep breaths; his heart is still hammering wildly in his chest. It’s strange, like a weird adrenaline rush caused by something of no consequence.

God, it’s cold. Last time, Seoho didn’t really say much during the hour of music, so Keonhee considers going home now, but the song is nice.

And he wants to hear Seoho bid him goodnight.

So he waits.

_And that wraps up today’s Sunset Sounds! _Keonhee’s hands are completely numb. He’s having a hard time imagining his feet still connected to his body. There’s a steady stream of snot dripping out of his nostrils. _This has been your host, Lee Seoho. Goodnight everyone, I hope you listen again tomorrow!_

Seoho’s voice fades out. Keonhee holds his breath.

_On rainy days, you find me, trouble me throughout the night–_

Click. Silence. Static.

Suddenly the pressing cold doesn’t bother him anymore. Somehow, he feels warmer, something like fondness spreading through his stomach. Keonhee recognizes the song this time, he thinks one of his sisters has the tape. He’ll ask around once he gets home, but he’s positive he’d like Seoho’s version better.

It’s stupid to feel this way after hearing someone’s voice all of twice.

That’s fine. No one has to know.

***

He finds himself back on the hill the very next day, like this has already become routine. He turns the radio on, sets it down, buries his gloved hands in the pockets of his extra jacket.

_This is a sunset broadcast, but sometimes I’m tempted to move it to later in the day so I can accompany you all through the tenderness of nighttime._

Well, damn, now Keonhee wants that too.

_Good evening listeners! Last night the moon was so beautiful, I just had to take a walk. The sky was so clear, and the air had a sweetness I swear I’ve never felt before, and the near-full moon was so bright, lighting all the trees in a silver glow. I think I’ve been blessed by lunar magic of some sort._

Keonhee rolls his eyes. Of course Seoho would be a romantic.

_Bear with me then as I play moon songs; I know it’s sunset but she’ll be out soon anyways._

The moon songs are Keonhee’s favorite so far. He closes his eyes as it gets dark, his winter sunset probably a little earlier than the one in Seoho’s spring.

How lovely it would be to listen in the springtime. To feel what Seoho’s feeling; to see those butterflies, smell that air, be blessed by the moon.

This time, Seoho just hums the melody to the last song he played as the broadcast shuts off.

It’s enough to make Keonhee feel a little giddy.

***

“Come _on, _Keonhee,” Hwanwoong whines. “I’m leaving for a whole month tomorrow, and you can’t spend one evening with us?”

Keonhee sulks. “I’ve spent all day with you,” he says, but he’s already settling back down into Hwanwoong’s bed.

“Yay,” Dongju says with a cute smile. “Why were you in such a hurry to leave anyways?”

Keonhee hesitates, pulls out the radio from his bag. “I wanted to listen to a broadcast.”

Hwanwoong takes it from him and turns it over in his hands. “This is cute, I’ve never seen a radio like this before.”

“You can just listen to it with us,” Dongju says.

Keonhee shrugs. “I guess. I’m just not sure if it’ll work from here.”

“Why not?” Hwanwoong flicks it on.

Loud static fills the room. Keonhee reaches over to lower the volume. “My dad said it was basically a toy, so it’s kinda finnicky.”

“I’m surprised it picks up on anything,” Dongju remarks. “What broadcast do you listen to?”

Keonhee’s not sure how to explain it, still not even sure he wants to. “I…don’t really know,” he finally says, “it’s the only thing I’ve found that the radio picks up. Some local music show.”

“I don’t know any local music shows,” Dongju says.

“I don’t think it’s local to here.”

Hwanwoong raises his eyebrows. “Then how is it picking it up?”

Keonhee takes the radio back and makes sure the dials are correctly set. “I don’t know, I don’t know anything about radio.” He checks the time. “If it works from your house, it should be starting in a few minutes.”

The three of them sit side by side on the bed, crowding around the radio. The static shifts in tone. Keonhee realizes he’s holding his breath.

Just when Dongju looks about ready to throw the radio away, it crackles to life.

_Hi there, listeners!_

Hwanwoong gasps. Dongju looks unimpressed.

_Have you all heard the news? We’re only a few days into spring, but it’s apparently already shaping up to have the worst pollen in decades! So sorry to those of you with allergies; it’s gonna be a rough one. If you’re feeling gross, I’ve heard that gingko teas work wonders._

Seoho starts his playlist a little sooner into the broadcast than usual. As the first song begins to play, Hwanwoong leans back and narrows his eyes.

“That was two or three years ago,” he says.

Keonhee glances over at him. “What?”

“The worst pollen in decades,” Hwanwoong explains. “I’m pretty sure it was a few years ago. It was especially bad in the town by the coast, for some reason.”

“Hey, isn’t that where you’re going next year for your internship?” Dongju pipes up.

Keonhee nods. “Yeah. I’ve never been there before, it’ll be pretty cool to live by the ocean.”

“It’s a nice town,” Dongju says. “A lot bigger than ours. Almost everyone has a car. When are you going?”

“Early March.”

Dongju pouts. “That means we’ll only have a little over a month together, after Hwanwoongie-hyung comes back from his trip.”

Keonhee coos and pats Dongju’s hair. “Is little Dongju getting sentimental?”

“No!” Dongju snaps, and slaps Keonhee’s arm away. “You can move on to your big town and buy a car and forget us for all I care. We’ll be fine without you. Right, Woongie-hyung?”

“Huh?” Hwanwoong drags his gaze away from the radio, still softly emitting music. “Right, yeah,” he says, looking distracted.

“Are you okay?” Dongju reaches over to grab his hand. Hwanwoong flinches. Dongju pulls back, trying and failing to keep a neutral face.

“I’m fine,” Hwanwoong says, looking at the radio again. “This is just…strange.”

***

Now that Keonhee knows the radio can tune into the broadcast from as far as Hwanwoong’s house, he enjoys Seoho’s voice from the comfort of his bedroom. With Hwanwoong gone, and Dongju oddly quiet, a whole week passes uneventfully. Keonhee tells his family that his friends are busy, and that he’s catching up on the rest he couldn’t get while he was in school, and they thankfully leave him alone.

It’s just another day wrapped in his blankets, reading some newspapers his mom brought him while he waits for the radio show to start. There’s an interesting article about new post-war engineering. It’s fascinating, but Keonhee feels a little anxious remembering that in just two months, he’s moving away to a whole new city to learn about it. Quite honestly, it’s a job more suited for Dongju, had he been a year older. Maybe he’d join him after he graduated.

The static on the radio cuts off, and Keonhee sets his newspaper aside to give his full attention to the broadcast.

_Hello?_

That’s not Seoho. Keonhee frowns. This voice is a lot deeper, a lot scratchier.

The voice coughs. _Hello, listeners. My name is Geonhak._

Geonhak?

_I’m Seoho-hyung’s friend. Seoho-hyung couldn’t be here today. His throat hurts because he is sick._

Poor guy. Keonhee hopes Seoho gets better soon. He can’t help it; he’s grown quite fond of that silly little voice on the radio. It’s almost like having another friend.

_Please wish him well. Here are some songs that he picked out for me, because he doesn’t trust me._

Keonhee smiles as the songs start to play. Of course Seoho wouldn’t trust anyone to take over the show; Keonhee can tell how much he cares about _Sunset Sounds, _his little corner on the radio, all his own design. Keonhee thinks he can understand wanting to hold onto that, to control just that little bit of himself that gets shared with the world. Plus, Seoho has good taste in music. Keonhee thinks of him as a sort of curator. It’s okay to feel protective of that.

He goes back to his newspaper, half-reading, half-listening. He recognizes more songs than usual today; some of them were his favorites back in sophomore year. Soon enough, Geonhak awkwardly bids the listeners goodnight in his deep voice, and the show ends.

There’s no singing this time. Just a few moments of silence, then the click, the static.

***

_Hello listeners!_

Seoho’s back today. Keonhee’s happy to hear him, if a bit too happy, but he worries the radio host is pushing himself. He can’t tell if he’s imagining it, or if Seoho’s voice is slightly raspier than usual.

_Sorry for the sudden disappearance yesterday, I had a weird bug but it’s already mostly gone! I’m still a little tired, but they’re renovating the building this radio booth is in, so I probably won’t be able to broadcast for the next week. I hope you don’t miss me too much! Since I had an extra day being sick, I’ve put together one of my favorite playlists yet. I hope you enjoy it!_

The songs are good. Keonhee admits, though, at this point he’s probably biased. The playlist seems to end a lot faster than usual, although he can’t tell whether that’s because it really is shorter, or if he’s caught up in the fact that he won’t hear Seoho for the next week.

A week isn’t that long. He’ll live.

_And that marks the end of Sunset Sounds! Have a lovely night, everyone. As always, thank you for joining me._

Keonhee hears a cassette tape being popped out. He waits for the singing.

Instead, there’s a knock on the door.

_Huh? Is someone outside–_

***

The week goes by as they always have. Maybe Keonhee’s being melodramatic, but the absence of Lee Seoho’s voice feels like a void not only in his day, but in his thoughts.

His and Dongju’s family have New Year’s dinner together as usual. The Sons host it this year, since there are two less people without Hwanwoong’s family. After stuffing themselves with rice cake soup, Keonhee, Dongju, and Dongmyeong go up to the twins’ room to pass some time before they all leave for Harin’s.

Dongju makes a beeline for his desk and picks up a small bag of hard candies. “I got mail from Hwanwoongie-hyung today,” he says, smiling brightly. “This one’s for you.”

Keonhee takes the bag. “Why’d he only send you stuff?”

“Shipping costs, probably,” says Dongmyeong. “He put stuff in there for Harin and Hyungu hyungs too.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“I’m special, though,” Dongju says, looking smug. He picks up a postcard with a photo of a forest on the back. “I got a postcard. And extra candies.”

Dongmyeong sighs. Keonhee rolls his eyes. “Good for you,” he says. He tries not to think about the conversation he had with Hwanwoong the day before he left.

“I miss him,” Dongju says, ignoring their exasperation.

“Stop being sentimental,” Keonhee scolds.

“I’m _not _sentimental,” Dongju says testily. “I didn’t miss _you_ that much when you were gone.”

Keonhee frowns. “Gone when?”

“That trip you went on your sophomore year with your parents.”

Keonhee’s blanking on the memory. That’s weird. He doesn’t push it.

Dongju scans the postcard, smiling softly as he rereads it. He stashes it neatly in the smallest drawer on his desk, and Keonhee turns a blind eye to the photos of Dongju and Hwanwoong that peek out before he can get it shut.

Every December 31st, Harin’s family throws a New Year’s celebration. Most of their town shows up. By the time Keonhee and Dongju’s families arrive, people are already everywhere; dancing on the balcony, drinking and gossiping indoors, spilling out onto the light-strewn lawn. It’s a good distraction.

He and the twins peel away from their parents and Keonhee’s sisters as soon as they’re indoors. Harin’s family have outdone themselves on the decorations this year, somehow managing to be both elegant and fun. Keonhee picks a pretty flower off a table and slips it into his front pocket.

He spots that curly-haired junior behind the bar again, bothering the real bartender the Jus hired for the night. The bartender looks ready to throw him out a window, but the kid is stubborn and follows her around like a puppy.

“Kiwook’s gonna get himself punched,” Harin says, walking up behind Keonhee.

Keonhee laughs. “Shouldn’t you do something about that, then?”

“I don’t think I can. He’s a passionate kid.”

“Passionate is one word for it,” Dongmyeong says, shaking his head.

Harin shrugs. “Hyungu and I are playing a game outside if you guys want to join?”

They all bustle out. Hyungu’s sitting at a table near the garden with a few girls from their school. They’re all huddled over some board game Keonhee’s not familiar with, but they explain it to him with enthusiasm and he enjoys it a lot more than he expected.

After the board game, they start charades. Halfway through, Kiwook skips outside, looking pretty happy for someone who was probably thrown out by force. Hyungu visibly brightens upon seeing him. Keonhee’s not sure he’s ever seen him so vibrant. It’s cute.

They play a word-endings game. Then someone procures a pack of cards.

“Let’s play poker!” Kiwook exclaims. Hyungu rolls his eyes fondly at him.

And it’s finally midnight.

Harin tells them about all the fireworks they prepared, the coolest ones he’s sure any of them have ever seen, shipped from places far, far away. Apparently there’s some city Keonhee’s never heard of that makes the most insane fireworks, and it’s their main export. He wonders what it would be like to live in a land of fireworks. Imagines how bright it might be. How loud. A night that’s never dark, a sky always showering sparks.

It would be so overwhelming. People start flocking outside for the show, people Keonhee knows, and he’s hit with bittersweet fondness for his own town: small, predictable, but home.

Harin wasn’t lying. The fireworks are incredible. They whiz up into the night like the rockets Keonhee imagined as a child, bursting into colors he can’t even name. It’s deafening. He’s exhilarated. There’s one particular firework that catches his eye, dimmer than the rest, but continuing to sparkle long after the initial explosion, and it all feels a little inspirational.

Maybe there are better words for how he’s feeling, but he doesn’t want to find them. A wave of melancholia sweeps over him, the other side of the coin, the empty sadness that accompanies joy. Dongju starts coughing. The fireworks fade out for one final, showstopping display, and people cheer as the last one fizzles into smoke.

As everyone slowly starts making their way indoors, Kiwook nuzzles into Hyungu’s side, looking out into the smoky sky, and Keonhee can’t help but wish he had someone warm to hold.

***

_So, today I have a guest with me!_

Keonhee frowns. A whole week of nothing, and he comes back with a _guest?_

_He’s become a good friend of mine in such a short time. Do you want to introduce yourself? No? _Seoho laughs. Keonhee has a sour feeling in his stomach.

_It seems like our friend is a bit radio-shy. How cute! But unfortunate for you, listeners, since he has the loveliest voice._

No, Seoho has the loveliest voice. Who is this guest anyways, and why is he at the station? Is it Geonhak? But that wouldn’t make much sense, Geonhak’s not radio shy. And they were friends prior to the week. Keonhee presses his lips together, irritated.

_Ah, I’m talking too much. But it’s nice to have a friend here. A friend who makes me feel like…like being alive, just existing, is the greatest blessing I’ll ever have. Even greater than the moon!_

If Seoho’s that happy, Keonhee should be happy for him. Especially since Keonhee’s started imagining Seoho as his friend. Friends are happy for each other when they find something that brings them joy.

Keonhee just feels bitter.

_I could keep going on, but I know what you tune in for. Here are today’s songs, a little off-brand for me, but I hope you can understand how I feel._

The whole playlist is love songs. Keonhee’s a little nauseated. Definitely too strong of an emotion for the fact that a radio host brought a silent guest onto the show.

He still listens all the way through, because the songs, despite being sappy, are still good, and because he missed Seoho’s broadcasting. He’s been looking forward to this all week.

Seoho says goodnight. The tape is ejected. Keonhee twists up the volume with some masochistic urge to see if he can hear the guest’s voice.

_And that’s how it’s wrapped up! _ Seoho says, far from the microphone, sounding impossibly tender.

Sounding in love.

Goddamnit. Keonhee’s _jealous._

***

Keonhee visits Hyungu at the bookstore the next evening. It’s empty, and if Hyungu’s surprised Keonhee shows up, he doesn’t express it. He waves a greeting and goes back to setting up a new display.

“How’s your day been?” Keonhee asks, watching him work.

“Good,” Hyungu says simply. “I like making the displays.”

Keonhee takes a good look at it. It’s very pretty; he wouldn’t have expected any less from meticulous Hyungu. A few romance novels with dark-colored covers are propped up, the space between them filled with sprigs of holly, the sharp spikes of the leaves all carefully trimmed. Keonhee’s tempted to eat the jewel-toned berries.

“It looks really nice,” he compliments.

Hyungu smiles. “Thanks.” He finishes placing the last leaves, then turns to face Keonhee. “So, what brings you here? I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Keonhee feels a little guilty. He doesn’t want to tell him it’s a distractive measure for himself, because he doesn’t want to listen to a radio show of still unclear origin today because he’s gotten weirdly obsessed with it and the host is probably in love with someone now and that makes him feel jealous.

Breaking it down like that, even if he wanted to tell Hyungu, he doesn’t think he can explain.

“Sorry, I haven’t wanted to look at a book since graduating,” he says instead. Well, that’s…kind of true. “But something came up that I want to research,” he continues, wracking his brain for something he could possibly be researching right now. Because he knows Hyungu’s going to try to be helpful.

“What are you researching? I can help you find books.” There it is.

“Um. I want to know more about… Radio,” Keonhee fumbles, spitting out the first thing on his mind.

“The history or the science?”

“…both?”

Hyungu gives him a confused smile but leads him to the back of the store. He pats a high shelf full of colorful books. “These are about the history of popular music and how it’s evolved. That should have stuff about the history of radio.” He crouches to point out a different shelf. “These are about radio technology.”

“Thanks,” Keonhee says, grabbing a book at random. “This is very helpful. You don’t have to stick around if you’re busy.”

“I’m not busy.”

Damn.

“Have you…” Keonhee flaps his arms around– “Have you read any of these?”

“I’ve read most of them,” Hyungu says, and coming from anyone else that would sound so arrogant, but somehow Hyungu manages to state it like neutral fact.

“Why?” Keonhee asks, wondering how long he can manage to carry this conversation.

“I like music.”

Keonhee laughs awkwardly. “Don’t we all?”

“I like studying music,” Hyungu elaborates.

“You always do know the most about music. It’s cool!” The weight of his dad’s radio seems to triple in Keonhee’s backpack. Why did he even bring it?

It’s because he forgot to take it out, he tries to convince himself, but it’s a losing battle. He knows he brought it because he couldn’t quite accept the idea of skipping the broadcast.

The broadcast that starts in a few minutes. Keonhee sighs. All his self-control is slipping through his toes.

“Speaking of music, is it okay for me to play something?” he asks.

“Sure.” Hyungu shuffles to the back desk to pop out the tape that’s playing in the store. “What do you have?”

“It’s actually on radio.”

“Oh. We have a radio.”

“No, that’s okay, I brought a radio.”

“Oh.”

Keonhee pulls it out and flicks it on. Static. Relief washes over him; he isn’t late.

“Can I see that?” Hyungu asks. He examines it, more thoroughly than anyone else ever has. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was my dad’s when he was our age. He says it’s basically a toy.”

“Neat. I think this–” Hyungu points out some rubbed-off text on the back of the body– “probably said ‘Two Transistors.’ They were pretty low quality. And it’s old. You’re saying this still works?”

_Something fresh is happening today!_

Hyungu raises his eyebrows, impressed. Keonhee tries not to gloat.

_So, dear listeners, my good friend from yesterday– _Keonhee rolls his eyes– _has requested something very different from usual. Actually, a request at all is unusual, but he’s asked me to…sing for you all. So I’ll cut the broadcast a few minutes short and sing a song for you at the end. Feel free to tune out early today if you don’t feel like listen– _A faint slap can be heard. Seoho laughs. _Okay, okay, yes, I’d love it if you would listen. Here are today’s songs, please stick with us until the end!_

“Is this why you’re researching radios?” Hyungu asks.

“Yeah,” Keonhee says. “I have no clue how it works.”

Hyungu nods sagely. “I’m not familiar with this radio show. What’s it called?”

“…Sunset Sounds.” There’s not really a point in lying anymore.

“I’ve never heard of it.” Hyungu picks up the radio again. “It’s not even dialed to a frequency that makes sense.”

Keonhee bites his upper lip. “Well…that’s part of why I don’t know what’s going on. I just listen to it because the music’s good.”

A customer walks into the bookstore. Hyungu turns up the volume and goes to help her. Keonhee sits down at the back desk, leafing through the book he picked out at random earlier – the part about using different materials to press records until vinyl was popularized is pretty interesting, but he doesn’t really care enough to focus.

He goes and picks out a different book with a radio on the cover as Hyungu rings up the customer before sweeping the floor, humming along to Seoho’s songs.

“It’s crazy that it still hasn’t snowed,” Hyungu remarks, emptying the very dry dustpan into the trash.

Keonhee peers outside. It’s just gray. “It’s cold enough to snow until early March,” he says optimistically. Hyungu shrugs.

The last song fades out. The two of them meander back to the desk, waiting to see what happens next.

_Well, if you’re still around, listeners, I suppose it’s time._

Keonhee fidgets, anticipation coursing through his fingers. Hyungu sits still.

A familiar song begins to play.

_Love, love the stars. Love, love the moon._

Hyungu turns to look at him, confused but pleased. Keonhee holds a finger to his lips. He needs to hear this. He can’t believe he almost missed it from being petty.

He’s not sure he breathes for the entire song; he’s so obsessively trying to store the sound into his memory. He wishes there was a way he could have recorded this, but there isn’t time to waste wishing.

Seoho’s voice is incredible. Keonhee already knew that. But his _singing _voice. Singing confidently, loudly, not those scraps of quiet show endings. A whole song. He’s almost glad Hyungu’s here; otherwise he might start believing this was a sweet hallucination.

It ends too soon. _Goodnight, everyone, _Seoho says, sounding a little embarrassed. _Thank you so much for listening. I never say it enough, but it means a lot to me. This has been Sunset Sounds with Lee Seoho, and I’ll see you tomorrow._

There are a few beats of silence before the familiar click. Keonhee turns the radio off, puts it back into his backpack.

“Lee Seoho is a good singer,” Hyungu says.

“Yeah. I’ve never heard it before,” Keonhee says. He feels out of breath.

Hyungu cocks his head. “Really?”

“Yep. Isn’t that crazy? It’s the first time and he chose the song you showed me.”

“It’s almost like…” Hyungu taps his chin. “Predestined.”

Keonhee nods, still a little in disbelief. Seoho’s song. Last month, this was all he wanted. Now…

Maybe he can keep wishing.

“It’s weird, though,” Hyungu says, “all the songs he played were a little older. Nothing that was released in the past few years.”

Keonhee shrugs. “Maybe that was just his theme for the day.”

“Does he usually have themes?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty stupid.”

“So he doesn’t always play older songs.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know that much about what was released when.”

Hyungu nods. “Well, he has good taste. A lot of those songs weren’t popular, I’m glad someone else appreciates them. And thanks for showing me the radio.”

“No problem. You really do know a lot about music.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, why don’t you study music? You clearly love it, and you already know a lot about it. You could find a music-related career!”

“That would be nice.” Hyungu swipes some dust off the desk with his sleeve. “I probably can’t, though.”

“Why not?”

Hyungu glances up at Keonhee, then looks away. “I’ll probably take over this bookstore. It’s been in my family for ages. And I’ll find someone, start a family here.”

Keonhee hesitates. “…with Kiwook?”

Hyungu stares blankly out the window. “Kiwookie isn’t going to stay in this town. He has bigger dreams.”

“Then what’s stopping you? You could have bigger dreams too, Kang Hyungu.”

“This is just the way it’s always been,” Hyungu says with a note of finality. It’s a dismissal.

***

Dongju’s sick. No one knows what with – Dongmyeong, who shares a room with him, hasn’t caught it, nor have his parents, and the nurse in town has no clue what it is. His mom calls a doctor in their neighboring city and they’re not sure either.

He insists he feels fine though, just tired, a bit too cold all the time, the occasional stomachache. Keonhee spends the next few days at his house, making porridge and keeping him company.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, bringing a steaming bowl into his room.

“Good!” Dongju says, voice hoarse.

Keonhee smiles. “Is that so.”

Dongju peers out from his cocoon of blankets. “Woongie-hyung comes back in a week!”

Keonhee’s mouth goes dry. “Yeah, that’s exciting. He’d be upset if he saw you sick, though, so you should hurry up and get better.”

“I’m trying,” Dongju says, rolling his eyes.

“And I’m tired of making porridge.”

“But hyung,” Dongju whines, “it’s the only thing I can eat without puking.”

Keonhee sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll keep making porridge. It’s not like I have anything better to do anyways.”

Dongju blows on his spoon for awhile before nibbling at it. “What have you been doing since graduation anyways?”

“Not much. Sleeping, listening to music.”

“You could do both of those things here.”

“I’m not going to sleep here, Dongju,” Keonhee says. “You don’t have enough beds. And I live a ten-minute walk away.”

“Just the music then.”

The sun’s setting. “Alright, just the music then.”

Dongju doesn’t comment when he brings out the radio. It’s become a permanent presence in Keonhee’s bag; he carries it everywhere even when he knows he’ll be home before sunset. Just in case.

No, not just in case, it’s just easier to leave it in there.

_Good evening, listeners._

Dongju blows loudly on his porridge.

_I know this isn’t really the best place to be talking about this, but I’ve been learning more to speak my mind when it matters._

Seoho sounds uncharacteristically serious. Keonhee perches at the foot of Dongju’s bed, setting the radio down by his side.

_And this matters. We’re a year into a pointless war._

Dongju pauses, spoon halfway to his mouth.

_Do you even realize this? As we go about our everyday lives, our military is overseas, killing people over nonexistent conflicts._ Seoho sighs. _I shouldn’t be going on about this. Enjoy today’s music, everyone._

Keonhee’s wracked with a sort of guilt. He thinks back to when they were at war. He and his friends just living thoughtlessly, lamenting exams, complaining about teachers. It all seems trite now.

“We had to go to war,” Dongju says, tone haughty. “There were threats.”

“What if that’s just what we were taught?” Keonhee speculates.

Dongju sets his spoon down. “You’d believe some random radio host you don’t know over our entire education?”

“I don’t know. I guess not.”

***

The illness gets worse. Dongju’s completely bedridden, he can barely talk, his parents have called for a doctor to travel in, and Keonhee basically lives in his house. He suspects he gets underfoot more often than he’s helpful, but he can’t find it in himself to leave.

He’s just worried. It reminds him of when they were little, and Dongju used to get sick a lot, and some kid bullied him all the time, saying he wouldn’t live to graduate elementary school.

People are cruel. Keonhee wonders if that kid had meant it, if he knew how it would stick in Keonhee’s memory for the next decade.

The doctor, a short, stern-looking woman, shows up three days later with a case full of herbs and medicines Keonhee’s never seen in his life.

He asks about them. She asks him to leave.

So Keonhee finds himself back on the hill, kicked out from his friend’s house, not wanting to go home in case his parents ask about how Dongju’s doing.

He turns on the radio half out of habit. He hasn’t been able to listen for the past few days, spending all his time looking after Dongju. His attachment seems kind of dumb now.

_Why are we at war in the first place? _Seoho says without a greeting. Keonhee closes his eyes, tries to make himself blank.

_Yes, it’s a war we’ll win. But doesn’t that make it more cruel? The men in power are lying to you, listeners. War isn’t the answer right now if it ever has been, and a few years down the line we’ll just have unnecessary blood on our hands._

Keonhee frowns. Seoho’s anti-war sentiment has clearly gotten stronger, and it’s not making him feel any better.

_They’re LYING to you, listeners! There have been NO peaceful measures taken to acquire the technology they claim this war is for. That’s just a front for the fact that our country wants to steal resources and labor. I know it’s so easy to ignore this, because the war isn’t in our town, in our homes. Which makes it easier for them. They’re lying. To. You. To get you to support the war, to throw your money and your family members at it._

Keonhee doesn’t actually know anyone who went to war. Their town was too small, too far inland for people to bother to recruit here.

_But we’ll get the word out somehow, that our government is corrupt, that we’re barreling towards an existence fueled by greed. And when we win. What then? Do we keep pushing?_

It’s cold. Keonhee curls up into the fetal position.

_Once we’re on the tracks, and we confirm we can take anything we want by force, how will we ever stop?_

***

Seoho is radio silent for three days.

Keonhee gets a call from Dongmyeong saying that Dongju’s doing a lot better, roaming around the house and getting antsy.

His mom gifts him a new scarf. It’s a lovely, rich blue, the color he imagines the ocean to be.

Hwanwoong’s coming back tomorrow.

Everything’s settling back to how it was, how it has been for years. But there’s an incessant prickling under Keonhee’s skin, a looming sense of not dread, but just. Something. Something odd.

He walks up the hill and turns the radio on every night. Partially out of habit. He’s not sure why. He doesn’t feel the earnest need to hear Seoho anymore, and Seoho hasn’t even been broadcasting for the past few days.

Keonhee counts the trains. It’s easy. There are none today. There’s been an unprecedented lull; no one ever wants to do much traveling in late January, but even so it’s never been _this_ empty.

The sky is gray. It still doesn’t snow.

The radio crackles to life.

_Hello, listeners._

Seoho seems a bit…strained. Keonhee tries not to read into it. He hasn’t heard the voice in so long, he’s probably just forgetting the way it sounds.

_Sorry for my absence without warning. I wasn’t sure whether to come in today or not, but I think it’s my duty to report this. I have received threatening letters to the radio station and to my home, trying to censor me._

Keonhee sharply sucks in a breath.

_That’s admission that there is something very wrong going on, is it not? I’m trying to tell you the truth, and someone out there, someone who knows where I work, where I LIVE, is trying to shut me up._

Maybe Seoho was right about something after all.

_Please. Please find out what’s really going on even without me. Don’t write this off as a conspiracy. Never trust the people in power. Spread the word. Get people with empathy, or at least people with common sense, into power. Riot._

Seoho takes a deep breath, and Keonhee can hear it waver even across the tinny speaker of the radio.

_How can we ever hope for future peace if we ignore it now?_

The broadcast clicks over. No music.

Keonhee runs home.

He knows how the war ended. He knows that whatever those threats were are long over, and whatever happened must have already passed. He knows there’s nothing he can do.

But he can’t shake the persistent feeling from earlier, getting stronger now, that something is just _off. _But what can he do?

He calls Dongju’s house as soon as he gets home. Maybe seeing the younger will calm him down a bit. Dongju’s mom picks up on the second ring.

_Hello?_

“Hello, this is Keonhee. Can I talk to Dongju?”

_Oh hi Keonhee! He actually left about an hour ago to study, claimed he’s finally feeling better and said he needed to get out of the house. He told me he was going to the bakery downtown. Is there anything I can do for you?_

“No thank you, I just wanted to check up on him. I’m glad he’s feeling better. Thank you for letting me know. Have a good evening!”

_You too, sweetie. Bye!_

She hangs up. Keonhee puts the phone back and looks around his house, just now realizing that it’s silent. That’s rare, someone’s usually home. The emptiness does nothing to ease his nervousness, so he picks his bag back up and jogs downtown.

The warm, bready scent of pastries and bitter coffee envelop Keonhee in a comforting haze as he steps into the bakery. He spots Dongju near the back, camped out alone in the coziest booth, and just seeing him is enough to settle Keonhee’s stomach a bit.

He goes up to the counter to order some coffee first.

“Iced americano?” the barista asks before Keonhee has even opened his mouth.

“Huh?” Keonhee responds, taken aback.

The guy smiles. _Kim Youngjo, _his nametag reads. “You’re Hwanwoong and Dongju’s friend, right?”

“Um, yeah…” Keonhee tries not to frown. This must be the guy that hits on Hwanwoong all the time, the one that Hwanwoong is apparently going to ask out, but if that’s true, Keonhee’s only actually spoken to him once.

“So, what can I get for you?” Kim Youngjo says, either ignoring or not noticing Keonhee’s confusion.

“Could I actually just get hot coffee? Black.”

“Sure.” Youngjo spins around and pours out the coffee before Keonhee can even open his wallet. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “On the house.”

“Oh.” Keonhee bows a bit. “Thank you so much, sir.”

Something flashes in Youngjo’s eyes, but Keonhee doesn’t have a moment to process it before his expression clears. “No problem. Have a good evening.”

“You too. And thank you again.” Keonhee gives him another small bow and makes his way to Dongju’s table. He’s disappeared, probably gone to use the bathroom since all his books are still piled on the table. Keonhee pushes a few pages of notes away to set down his coffee and slips into the booth, small smile on his face. Dongju’s always been so diligent. It’s cute.

As Keonhee’s trying to make out what the notes are about, something to do with gravity of all things from what he can read, Dongju walks up to the table. He really does look a lot better, and Keonhee opens his mouth to question him about the studying.

When their eyes meet, Dongju pales, eyes wide.

Keonhee cocks his head. “What’s wrong?”

Dongju gapes for a few more seconds before sitting down. “_Shit,_” he says, “you’re going today, aren’t you.”

“What? Going where?” Keonhee stares him down, wondering if this is some odd joke.

“Back.” Dongju runs a hand through his hair. “I was wondering when it would happen. I’d almost forgotten.”

_“What are you talking about?”_

“To take the train, right?”

“Why would I be taking the train?”

Dongju picks up one of his books and sets it back down, looking frustrated. He digs a small pouch out of his messenger bag and rummages through it, procuring a small, scrunched-up piece of paper. He hands it to Keonhee.

Keonhee unfolds it carefully. The paper is thin and lightly waxy, the black print on it faded with age but clear enough to read. It’s a chart of some sort. Like a train timetable, but with way more columns and numbers than he’s used to seeing.

“It took me so long to find that,” Dongju says, like that explains anything. “And I’ve been holding onto it for ages.”

Keonhee frowns at the paper. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Dongju glares at him like Keonhee’s playing dumb on purpose. When Keonhee’s expression doesn’t change, he curses under his breath. “Wait. Fuck. Has Hwanwoongie-hyung never told you?”

“Told me _what?_ Stop being cryptic and tell me what’s going on!”

“…when did you get that scarf?”

Keonhee pulls at it. “This? My mom gave it to me yesterday morning.”

Dongju takes a sharp breath, mouth set in a thin line, then starts shoving all his things into his backpack. “Don’t lose that timetable,” he warns, “and hurry.”

Keonhee’s too confused to refuse. He follows Dongju out, waving a hasty goodbye to Youngjo. “Stay safe out there,” the barista calls after them as they head out the doors.

In a matter of minutes, they’re standing in front of the train station.

“It’s closed right now,” Keonhee says.

Dongju doesn’t respond. He takes the timetable out of Keonhee’s hands and inspects it under the dim light of a lamppost. “Shit. You don’t have much time.” He grabs Keonhee’s elbow and pulls him to the side of the building and through a set of doors he’s never noticed before.

Once inside, they’re standing at the far side of the platform. Keonhee’s pretty sure it’s only ever used for deliveries. When they were kids, he, Dongju, and Hwanwoong used to dare each other to jump across the tracks to get there. None of them ever actually tried. But here they are now.

The station is eerie and dark, their footsteps echoing too loudly for Keonhee’s taste. It sounds like there are other people here, invisibly walking alongside them.

Comparatively, Dongju seems unfazed. He tugs Keonhee further down the station, the lights getting dimmer and dimmer. They finally stop in front of a nondescript door.

Dongju unfurls the timetable. He points out a string of numbers. “The last train comes in seven minutes. I… I don’t actually know what happens if you miss it, but I feel like you shouldn’t.”

Keonhee peers at the paper. The strings of numbers are dates and times, of course, but Keonhee just now begins to decipher how to read the chart. Dongju’s right, the last train bound for… _somewhere,_ leaves today. The destination is also a bunch of numbers, and Keonhee still doesn’t completely understand.

“Please tell me you’re packed and shit,” Dongju says, eyeing Keonhee’s backpack.

“I only have my radio, my wallet, and an extra pair of socks.”

Dongju bites his lip. He slings his bag off and pulls out six triangle kimbaps. “Take these, at least.” Without waiting for an answer, he unzips Keonhee’s backpack and stuffs them in.

“Why do you have so many kimbaps? And where are we?”

“If you go through here,” Dongju says, placing a hand on the door, “you’ll find a staircase that goes down like, three flights. The station down there basically looks exactly like this one.”

“There’s a whole _station _downstairs? How come I’ve never heard about it?”

“I don’t think most people know about it. Hwanwoongie-hyung only told me because I caught him going down there, once. I’d go with you right now but the place freaks me out.” Dongju pauses, lost in thought. “The trains look kind of weird.”

“Freaks you out how? Weird how?”

“It just has an odd vibe. And the trains kind of…flicker? Like if you don’t focus enough, they start to disappear.”

Keonhee yanks the timetable out of Dongju’s hand, staring through it as if it’s going to give him clearer answers. “What the _hell_ is going on?”

Dongju checks his watch and hisses. “If it’s not on that one, don’t forget to check the other timetables when you get off, for when you want to get back. Oh. Do you have a watch?” he says, words rushed.

“No, I told you I only have socks and my–”

“Your radio,” Dongju interrupts. Keonhee can’t decipher the expression that flickers across his face. “You were looking for him, weren’t you?” the younger says softly. “The voice on the radio.”

“What?”

Coughing, Dongju takes off his watch and clasps it onto Keonhee’s wrist. “Give this back when you come back. You should get going. You only have four minutes left.”

Keonhee grabs Dongju’s shoulder. “Dongju. I don’t get it. Where am I going? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Time, hyung.” Dongju takes a deep breath. “The trains down there travel through _time.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss hearing the train outside my window
> 
> [twt](http://twitter.com/keonfeet) (new!) | [cc](http://curiouscat.me/oorrrt)


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